Bewitched, Bothered & Bewildered
by Elise-Collier
Summary: Owen Grady is smarting from his bad date with Claire Dearing. When he sees her at the Jurassic World staff Halloween party, will he get a second chance or a repeat rejection? A pre-Jurassic World AU in three parts. Rated T/M for language and adult content.
1. Chapter 1

**_Believe it or not, this story idea is a year and a half old, but I decided to flesh it out with the encouragement of akaJB. I hope you enjoy this AU and its Halloween theme :)_**

* * *

 _The night had gone from bad to worse for her. He began their evening on the entirely wrong foot, literally. Who shows up to a first date with Claire Dearing in sandals and board shorts? Granted, it had been some time since she'd been on a proper date. She'd slept with a handful of guys on the island, but they weren't her intellectual equals. They certainly didn't give her the "stomach flip" either. Owen gave her the stomach flip and then some. It was scary and exciting all at once. Claire couldn't remember the last time she'd had that feeling. It was no secret she was lonely. Zara had been the one to encourage her to find a true partner. Someone she could share her days with. Someone for comfort and understanding. Someone she could respect._

 _As soon as she met Owen, Claire knew he was different. Smart, funny, and sexy as hell. It didn't hurt that he worked outside her direct chain of command. Organized as ever, she did her research. A dip into his personnel file revealed that Owen was very devoted to his job - something she appreciated - but had been reprimanded by Hoskins for not filing reports on time - something she could overlook, knowing that Hoskins had a tendency to act harshly toward employees who threatened his dominance. From her conversations with staff, Owen was dominant in the most appealing way. Women wanted him, and men wanted to be him. There was also an air of mystery and danger about him. Her imagination went wild considering his varied life experiences. She dismissed his established "love 'em and leave 'em" behaviors as overblown and misunderstood. Like her, he lacked an intellectual equal._

 _When she had an opportunity to ask him out, there was no hesitation on either of their parts. It validated what she'd carefully worked out in her head: Owen was her perfect guy. Unfortunately, he may have only been that way on paper. The guy in front of her this night was a bitter disappointment. Her itinerary was a cleverly designed mix of tantalizing opportunities and challenges for him. It could've been her best date ever. Proven him worthy of her attentions. Too bad the mounting evidence suggested a very different and specific goal for him. Between his attire and his persistent attempts to ply her with alcohol - something she'd predetermined to avoid in order to keep her wits about her and assess him accurately - it was becoming painfully obvious that all he wanted from her was sex._

 _While they walked in an awkward silence to her car, Claire considered how easy it would be to invite him home. Her heart, for better or worse, wouldn't allow that. She didn't want to add him to the list of "one and done." Owen was supposed to be more._

 _Before she could reach for the sedan's door handle, he leaned down to kiss her. Lightning-quick reflexes and a well-honed ability to anticipate others' failings allowed her to deflect his last ditch salvage effort. His lips landed squarely on her cheek. He laughed, but she just felt disgusted by him. His skills at wooing her had been pitiful, start to finish. What a waste of a beautiful vessel. He didn't know when to quit either._

" _You should've slapped me," quipped Owen with a devious grin._

 _Shaking her head with derision, Claire replied, "I thought that would've turned you on."_

" _It absolutely would have." She scoffed aloud when it appeared that he might try the same move again._

" _Goodbye, Owen." That was that. She got in her car and slammed the door shut as fast as humanly possible. Turning the key in the ignition, she felt as if she was turning herself over, too. Maybe a true partnership wasn't realistic for her. Maybe she needed to consider other options._

* * *

The Jurassic World staff Halloween party featured a predictable assortment of ghouls, goblins, and sluts. Although most women actively tried not to be objectified in the workplace, Owen Grady noticed that many of them made an exception on Halloween. Women had seemingly no qualms about choosing costumes that could only be preceded by the adjective "sexy": nurse, cat, witch, pirate, maid, bunny, etc etc. Even the princess dresses were decidedly not wholesome. Under different circumstances, he would find all the eye candy beyond thrilling. After his terrible first date with Claire Dearing, however, the sight made him nauseous. It felt like only yesterday that the Senior Assets Manager dramatically rejected him. His mind still wrestled with why it had affected him so deeply. Why it left him feeling uncomfortable in his own skin. He was usually so confident and sure of himself, especially with women. He was absolutely thrown by her uptight antics on the date. And yet, he also felt regret. At the time, he'd convinced himself that it was all on her. Following several weeks of contemplation, the blame no longer appeared one-sided. Owen wanted to chalk it up to pure lust, but he was starting to realize that she might just be "the one that got away."

Tonight, he was out to prove he could get back in the game. He grinned to himself over his clever ensemble as "Clark Kent." The Superman t-shirt just visible beneath the open buttons at the top of his crisp, collared shirt was meant to tease, and the subtle touches - his InGen badge repurposed with well-placed tape to read "The Daily Planet" and a pencil behind his ear - were eye-catching. His eyes had an unobstructed view of potential prey through the empty rims of his glasses. Surveying the scene from the far corner of the bar, his gaze stopped on a statuesque butterfly at the opposite end. She was as regal as a Monarch and bedecked in glitter from head to toe. Her elaborate costume featured wings that fanned out from her dress, attached themselves to sequined wrist cuffs, and fluttered seductively as she moved. On her head was a mask that covered most of her face. His breath hitched as his eyes traveled downward, taking in her shimmering cleavage, the nearly scandalous slit in her dress, and long legs covered in fishnet stockings. For a moment, he couldn't move. He froze staring at her familiar purple stilettos. His head snapped up to her face to examine the green of her eyes and the shape of her lips. He'd previously studied them all. Fantasized about them all over stilted dinner conversation with Claire Dearing.

Attempting to put down his beer bottle, Owen missed the bar top and, as he grabbed for it, almost slid off his stool. He slammed his hands onto the slick surface to hold himself steady, wincing as the bottle clattered on the floor. The ruckus drew her attention. Although her exact expression was difficult to decipher behind the mask, her eyes reacted strongly. He couldn't tell if it was horror or embarrassment, but it certainly wasn't the lust that he was trying to elicit or had just been present in his own eyes. After picking up his empty bottle, he straightened to find that Claire was gone. A pang of horror sliced through his body. Did she leave because of him or, worse, did she take another guy home? His head on a swivel, he spied her talking to a brunette in a catsuit not far away. The resultant sigh of relief was likely audible, but he didn't care. Ordering another beer, he tried not to stare at her. His regret over missing a chance to sleep with her intensified. It might've been nice to get at least a one night stand out of it. Hell, if their date had gone better, he could've been her escort to the party and assured to be the one taking her home tonight. He considered trying again, and his pants felt uncomfortably tighter. They were not done. No way, no how. Maybe if he fucked her brains out, she'd agree to a second date.

Daydreaming about alone time with Claire Dearing did not do anything to reduce the bulge at his crotch. He remained shielded by the bar while he continued to watch her as stealthily as possible. When he finally felt free to move, he took a necessary detour to the men's room to "break the seal." Owen emerged on a mission to charm her right out of her costume - except maybe those stilettos. The stilettos could stay on her feet. By this point in the evening, the music was blaring, and the lights had dimmed. He weaved in and out of the crowd to locate her. Sadly, she wasn't amongst the gyrating bodies on the dance floor or the wallflowers hovering by the refreshments table. His hunt dragged on for twenty minutes but to no avail. It felt as if all the blood had been sucked out of his body. Claire might as well have been a vampire for Halloween. Owen was lifeless, drained, and very frustrated. Returning to the bar, he decided to wait her out a little longer. Perhaps she'd gone to the restroom herself. Her costume might make it difficult to maneuver in a stall. Thinking about taking off her dress was not a good idea. His erection was back full-force. He groaned before chugging his fifth or sixth beer.

Another twenty minutes later, and he transitioned to feeling pathetic. He'd already rebuffed a cute girl dressed as Dorothy, complete with ginger braids. She was too young and not the redhead he wanted. Eventually, Owen conceded that he would not accomplish his mission and decided to settle. Two sexy devils sat across the bar, batting their fake eyelashes at him between giggling to each other. The sultry pair wouldn't be better than one sparkly butterfly, but they'd fulfill an immediate need.

It took a week of restless nights and screening out repeated calls from the clingy "twins" before Owen finally decided to go after what he really wanted. He never chased women. They always came to him. He fought every natural impulse to continue his pursuit of Claire. Buying flowers wasn't something he did for anyone - not even his mother - yet there he stood, waiting outside her office door with a bouquet. He was about to give up and leave until he heard a high-pitched squeal. Turning his head toward the sound, he recognized the brunette from the party. Her catsuit had been replaced with a blazer and slacks.

"Oh my God," she exclaimed in a British accent, "I should've known it was you!" She smiled as if she'd just uncovered a very juicy secret. Owen played along.

"You caught me," he sighed over-dramatically.

"Let's put them on her desk!" He followed her inside the office while she rambled. "Claire's meeting with an investor right now, but you probably knew that already." Zara could barely contain her glee. Her boss's mystery man was familiar after all. It wasn't tough to guess that Claire and Owen were still interested in each other. "Glad you're keeping her satisfied...night and day," she added with a cheeky wink. Motioning for him to leave the bouquet, Zara mused, "I bet you reconnected at the Halloween party." Her eyebrows went up expectantly. When he opened his mouth to respond, she waved her hand in front of his face. "No, no, don't tell me. I'm not supposed to know. She keeps things private, but - don't worry - I won't tell her or anyone else what I know. I'd be sacked!" He laughed nervously as they walked back to the door.

Before he could make a break for it in the hallway, the woman grabbed his sleeve. Leaning close to his ear, she whispered coquettishly, "Bravo, at being the perfect boyfriend. Color me impressed. Maybe I should be marrying you instead?" It took every ounce of self-control for him not to lash out. He couldn't see or think straight. Although he didn't know this assistant from Adam, he wouldn't take his aggressions out on her. Given the circumstances, her teasing was also alarmingly arousing. Owen needed to find someone to punch. Or someone to fuck.


	2. Chapter 2

Over the next few weeks, Owen felt haunted by Claire. He couldn't shake his persistent wonderings about her. How did she get a boyfriend so quickly after their disastrous date? What man in his right mind would willingly sign up for a relationship with her? The kind of man who saw her in that butterfly costume, he supposed. Why did he care if she was with someone else anyway? He concluded that he was simply jealous of someone else getting what he wanted. But why did he want her at all? Hadn't she been awful on their date? Maybe it was the fact that she shattered the notion that he could ensnare any woman. His charms hadn't worked on her. Why was that so bothersome? Why couldn't he just let her go? And why, on earth, did he prefer her in his fantasies? It reached the point where he couldn't look at another woman without comparing her to Claire. What was wrong with him?

Recalling his approach to their date, he started to feel embarrassed. He never put effort into dates before and hadn't anticipated it would be any different with Claire. In retrospect, he should've known better. They'd interacted a few times - usually informally at the island's small grocery store or one of the quick service eateries - with her always moving purposefully, too busy to stop and smell the roses. Or notice attractive guys checking her out. Once, they stood next to each other at the back of a conference room during a mandatory safety seminar. He found her amusing: mouthing half of the presenter's words while incessantly tapping on her phone.

"Heard this a few times?" He'd leaned over to ask her in a hushed but flirty tone.

"I helped develop it seven years ago," she answered matter-of-fact. Claire wasn't bragging or showing arrogance. It was pride and a sense of accomplishment, and he could relate to that. She gave him a small but irresistible smile. It hooked him. Catching the name on her badge as the crowd shuffled out of the room, he asked around about her. Discovered she was intelligent and driven. No one knew the park better than she did. It was said that she couldn't delegate and preferred to find her own solutions to problems. This pattern of behavior led to late nights for her but relatively early nights for her staff. No one was actually complaining. Owen figured that she'd be equally aggressive in the bedroom. It was a huge turn-on. When he considered asking her out, he recognized that she was different from his usual conquests. He did not, however, stop to consider what that might mean about him.

When Claire herself took the first step, he felt like he'd hit the jackpot. She was more up for it than he ever imagined. He got complacent and over-confident. This was gonna be easy. Far from it. As sexy as she looked, her idea of fun didn't line up with his. Or so it seemed that night. Until the bitter end, he thought he could break her down and bring her home. He couldn't remember the last time - if ever - he'd felt so frustrated by a woman. Why should he feel that way anyway? Fuck her if she wasn't into him. Too bad it was not that simple, and yet, he still really wanted to fuck her. She loomed large in both of his heads. He didn't like where his mind went when he considered the jealousy he felt upon learning that she found someone else at the Halloween party. Owen got stuck in a vicious circle of negative thoughts about the other man. Who was this "perfect" guy? And why did he want to punch him more than he ever wanted to punch Hoskins?

By the time he was sitting in Claire's office for an early December meeting, Owen still didn't have answers to most of his burning questions. He'd remained in state of vexation, to the point that he actually zoned out while she was talking to him. Prior to his arrival, he'd been certain that he could keep his emotions in check. As soon as he saw her, he deflated significantly. She had home field advantage and remained cool, confident and controlled. If he wasn't so rattled, he would've been aroused. To add insult to injury, Claire also appeared annoyed by his presence. He initially tried to level the playing field by bantering and flirting. Not having any of it, she didn't even crack a smile. He ultimately decided to mirror her all-business demeanor.

"Are you listening to me?" she snapped.

"Yes," replied Owen through gritted teeth. "I refuse to consider the raptors for an attraction. They're not ready."

She scoffed, "According to my contacts at InGen, you've made tremendous gains in the last few months. Henry Wu says you're taming them." His snort of disgust drew her ire. Her eyes slitted as she continued, "Henry thinks that Blue is particularly special." This caused Owen to dig in his heels further. She didn't have any right to the details of his research.

Pointing a crooked index finger toward the floor, he hissed, "It's my pack. I'm the alpha, and I decide what they will and won't do." Her eyes alight with sudden victory, he bit down hard on his tongue. Shit, he thought, wrong way to phrase that. Claire's lips curled upward for the first time since he walked into her office.

"So," she began with a quirked brow, "you _do_ have control?"

"You know that's not what I meant."

Unfazed, she rolled her eyes and asked impatiently, "What's the timeline, then, for the raptors to be ready?"

"That's unanswerable." He couldn't bring himself to say more, and he didn't want to. He resumed his efforts at stoicism. It was too exposing to reveal how much she got under his skin.

Frowning, Claire queried, "What's the matter? Were you expecting me to still be interested in you?" A muscle under his eye started to twitch with irritation. Her tone was mocking. No one mocked him and got away with it. "There's clearly no legitimate attraction between us...unless your raptors become one."

"Are we done?" Owen almost growled. He wanted to wipe the self-satisfied smirk off her face. Strike that, he wanted to kiss it off. He actually _was_ getting aroused now.

"Yes."

"Good." As he stood to leave, he quipped, "I hope you liked the flowers you got after the Halloween party." She looked startled, and it was his turn to grin victoriously. He finally succeeded in throwing her off balance.

"How did you..." Her voice trailed off before she cleared her throat and re-centered. "Yes, my...boyfriend gave them to me."

"Guess you found someone you could control."

She took a deep breath before snickering, "He knows how to treat a woman." There was a pregnant pause while her nostrils flared in a nearly cartoonish way. Owen had to suppress a laugh. "And I take great care of him." Almost adopting a battle stance, Claire dared him to push her further.

"Glad he got rewarded for my effort." With that, Owen stormed out of the room. Ego severely bruised, both personally and professionally.

Later that night, Owen found himself drowning his sorrows in tequila at Sunrio. When had he transitioned from anger to sadness? What was happening to him? He actually felt close to tears but blamed the alcohol for that. It was clearly time to get out of a public place, lest he lose further control of himself. Standing, his gait was unsteady. He practically stumbled out the door and was caught by a man entering the bar. The man was someone he knew in passing, a triceratops handler named Levi Duncan.

"Hey man," Levi teased in a friendly manner, "You're moving like a young, uncoordinated trike." When they locked eyes, Owen's intoxication must've been obvious. Levi looked at him sympathetically. "Why don't you sit back down for a glass of water?" Under normal circumstances, Owen might've been embarrassed. In that moment, however, he didn't care. He also couldn't stop his loose lips. Perhaps Levi's unassuming demeanor soothed both large herbivores and heartsick humans.

"I saw an 'old flame' today," Owen sighed, not knowing how else to phrase it or describe his inner turmoil. "It made me realize - yet again - how much I screwed up my chance with her."

"Could you try again?" Levi asked while taking his phone out of his pocket and placing it face-up on the bar top. He seemed genuinely interested and supportive.

"Nah, she's already moved on." As the other man shrugged, Owen rambled. "She is smokin' hot, but that's not all. I can't get her out of my head. I'm usually able to move on, but...this one. I can't explain it." He looked down, willing himself to avoid where his thought process took him from there. "Oh, well, she stomped on the embers. The flame is completely out now." Getting somewhat sober, he felt unnerved by the foreign emotion lodged in his chest. So _this_ is hopelessness, he lamented to himself. Claire had previously wanted him enough to be the aggressor, and now, she wasn't enticed by him at all.

Levi listened but was also taking frequent and increasingly frustrated glances at his phone screen. "I hate metaphors," he stated distractedly. "You're too much of a poet." Owen grumbled incoherently, and Levi chuckled in response. "It's unattractive for someone who could have his pick of the ladies on this island."

"Except for one," Owen pouted.

"This is _definitely_ not a good look for you. Maybe you need to find an 'arrangement' like I have."

Owen's eyebrows rose in curiosity, "Is that who you're impatiently expecting a call from?"

Following a quick head shake and grumble of his own, Levi answered arrogantly, "Yes, my fuck buddy."

"A friend with benefits?"

"No, no, not a friend. That's too risky for developing feelings, me _and_ her. I mean a true fuck buddy. Little to no talking, just sex. Reliable, great sex with absolutely no strings."

"That seems like it'd be a rare find."

"You're probably right."

"Is she homely?"

"No, she is a stone cold fox. I was flirting with her at the Halloween party even though I didn't know who she was. It was unbelievably hot and escalated quickly. She didn't take off her mask until we got back to my place, and, boy, was I surprised by who it was."

"You're not going to tell me?"

"She swore me to secrecy - even threatened to make my life a living hell if I told anyone. She's always outwardly hated my guts, so people probably wouldn't suspect anything is going on. Neither of us is looking for a relationship either."

"Sounds perfect." Owen thought that Levi seemed giddy to tell this story, like he'd been itching to gloat about it.

"To simplify things, she formulated 'rules of engagement,' provisos, termination criteria." This revelation was intriguing, so Owen motioned for him to elaborate. "No dates, just hook-ups. No talking about exes. If one of us develops romantic feelings for the other, it's over. It's gotta be exclusive, no sex with other people. If we want to have sex with other people, the arrangement is null and void. She also laid out things she was unwilling to do sexually."

"Please spare me that level of detail," Owen finally interrupted him. The sheer number of rules was daunting. His expression must've betrayed his judgment of this "contract relationship."

Levi laughed, "The sex is fantastic despite her limits."

Even in his inebriated state, Owen appreciated some hesitancy on Levi's part and stated, "It sounds like you're getting to a 'but.'"

Levi groaned, "I have to wait around for her a lot. I'm at her beck and call, and it's never just when I want it."

"At least it's worth it when you get it." Owen raised his glass of water in a toast, and Levi smiled smugly when he met it with his beer bottle. Just then, the phone vibrated on the bar. Owen caught the name on the caller ID, "Boss," and smirked, "Better snap to it." Levi gave his drinking companion a brief evil eye then stepped away from the bar to take the call.

"Hey. You ready for me?" Levi asked seductively.

"Yeah," replied the female voice with a slight slur, "Sorry it took me so long. Bad day. Saw an ex. Shook me up more than I expected."

Levi's eyes popped open, and he looked in Owen's direction. He asked with honest concern, "Sounds like you still have feelings for him."

"Are we really going to have this conversation?" There's surprise in her voice. "We'd be breaking a rule."

"I'll allow it, under the circumstances. Besides, I can tell you've been drinking, so I know you broke one already."

"Yes, to the drinking and the feelings. I fucked it up, Levi. I gave up too quickly before and...I was a real bitch to him today."

"There's probably blame to share."

"You still want to come up?"

"My key still fits in your lock."

Levi heard her laughing as she hung up the phone.

When he returned to his seat at the bar, Owen joked, "Pretty long conversation, for fuck buddies."

"Yeah," Levi admitted, "She broke a couple rules. I mean, we both did." He paused, then his affect shifted to seriousness as he offered, "Wanna trade places?"

"What?" Owen was shocked.

Levi produced a key from his pocket and placed it on the bar in front of the raptor trainer. Confused, hazel eyes moved rapidly between the key and Levi, who was clearly amused and clarified, "I'll go back on the market and you...take the redhead." The color drained from Owen's face. His eyes widened. "Final confirmation then," Levi said with a wink. "You and Claire Dearing. Who'd have guessed?" Owen took a deep breath but otherwise didn't move. Levi continued in a reassuring voice, "She didn't mention your name on the phone just now, but what are the odds that more than two old flames on this tiny island are currently soothing their wounded hearts with alcohol after seeing each other today...and talking about how much they fucked it up with the other?" Levi rolled his eyes as Owen's perked up. "This is awkward...a little gross. I'm glad you didn't want to hear more about the sex." Laughing nervously, Levi pushed the key closer to the other man. "I'm not a bad guy - in fact, this is a huge sacrifice, so you owe me." Owen remained silent and brooding, unable to make eye contact. "Look, I can't keep going on this arrangement knowing what I know now. I'm just a consolation prize." Getting frustrated by Owen's stoicism, he teased, "C'mon, man, I know I'm funny."

Owen gave a dramatic, "Haha," followed by a snigger. "Happy now?"

"Very. Fight for her." Standing, Levi put a hand on Owen's shoulder before adding, "She's the penthouse at the top of the Hilton. Key is for the elevator button." He walked out of the bar leaving Owen to stare at the key.

* * *

 ** _I hope I have you on the edge of your seats :) What do you think about Claire's organized arrangement?_**


	3. Chapter 3

Claire sat on her sofa in the darkness and stared out the bay windows overlooking the lagoon. There was an emptiness that no amount of alcohol could fill. She doubted the rest of her evening would negate it either, but it would give her a distraction. Her eyes were red from crying. The tears had, at least, stopped flowing. She'd finally stopped hiccuping, too. A protective numbness began to take hold deep inside. When she heard the elevator door open and the subsequent footfalls, she finally stood.

"I was starting to think my rule-breaking scared you off," she mused lightly while walking out to the foyer. The sight of the man standing there, marveling at her penthouse, stopped Claire dead in her tracks. She clutched a wall with one hand, and placed her other hand on her chest.

"Oh my God!" She exclaimed. "How did you get up here?" Owen looked at her through similarly reddened and glassy eyes. Sheepishly, he held up Levi's key. Her earlier numbness had been replaced with overwhelming shock and confusion. It was paralyzing, and she couldn't speak. Her heart was racing. Her breathing shallow. The bulk of her energy being expended to prevent herself from blacking out.

"What did he t-t-tell you?" She eventually stuttered while looking away from him.

"More than you'd probably like me to know." A violent hiccup escaped her throat that, under different circumstances, could've been ascribed to a nervous tic. Swaying on her feet, however, she felt close to doubling over into a drunken stupor. Despite being similarly dazed, Owen rushed over to grip her shoulders and succeeded in keeping them both upright.

"Get away from me!" she nearly screamed, shrugging him off but not stepping back. Covering her face with her hands, her voice was muffled, "I'm so humiliated."

"Don't be," he deadpanned. "I'm no saint."

She peeked through the spaces between her fingers to give him a questioning look. Dropping her hands to meet his gaze full-on, her voice was soft. Her tone resigned. "You brought me flowers after our bad date and let me believe they were from someone else."

"Well, that was after I brought home two women from the Halloween party." Although he was wincing on the inside, he labored to prevent that from showing on the outside.

Disgust on her face, she straightened up and asked pointedly, "At the same time?" He nodded. "Ugh, Owen." This time, she did take a few steps back.

He snorted in response, "At least I didn't offer them a sex contract." He was making her angry, but he didn't care. In addition, he was too drunk to understand why he suddenly found himself enraged. "When I agreed to go out with you, I didn't realize you got off on controlling men."

"What?"

"That's your kink, right?"

"My...kink?"

"Dominating guys? Ones you don't even like but just want to fuck." Her expression shifted to looking remorseful, but it didn't stop his ranting. This is what it feels like to be objectified, he thought to himself. No wonder women didn't appreciate it. "You heard I was good at that and were vetting me on our date."

"That's not true."

He scoffed in disbelief then snarled, "I bet that print-out was a checklist for me. I didn't fulfill your criteria, but Levi did...apparently."

Rubbing her temples and shaking her head, she shouted, "No! Stop this. Why would you even think that?"

Shouting right back at her, "We didn't know each other. We weren't friends. The first real conversation we have, and you ask me out. What was I supposed to think?"

"That I wanted to _date_ you!" Claire's tearing up and looking down at her feet finally sobered him.

Blinking rapidly, he queried incredulously, "You wanted to date me?" She met his gaze again, and he was struck by the vulnerability in her eyes. It felt like a knife twisting in his chest.

"Well...yeah. Why not? Is that _not_ something _you_ do?" They stared blankly at each other, unmoving. Cracking first, she raised a hand in defeat. "Forget it. It's fine."

As she turned her body from his, Owen was suddenly gripped by a sense of doom and blurted, "A woman's never asked me out before. I didn't know what to think."

"So, you jump to thinking I just wanted to...what? Make you my sex slave?"

"I guess," he mumbled before squeezing his eyes shut in embarrassment. As verbalized by her, his assumption sounded really stupid. An uncomfortable sensation gurgled in his gut, a combination of butterflies and self-loathing. Disinhibited by alcohol, his own insecurities had been laid bare. Did he really show up at her place drunk and make that wild accusation? His hangover and headache tomorrow were going to be the worst of his life. He needed to recover from this somehow - regardless of his shredded dignity - but his brain wasn't fully functional. "So, do you bring an itinerary on every date?" His attempt to lighten the mood and cover his shame was not well-received. By her expression, Claire appeared ready to maim him.

"Get out!" Her scream was almost blood-curdling. "And leave my key!"

"What if I want to use it again?" He didn't know why he screamed back. Just felt right.

"I don't want you as a _fuck buddy_."

"Fine."

"Fine."

As he slammed the key down on a hall table, the volume and intensity of his voice remained elevated. "I'm taking you out Friday night." This determined pronouncement caught her off guard, and she almost lost her balance.

"What?" Her voice returned to a reasonable volume but was thick with discombobulation.

"We're having a second date." It was a statement.

Crossing her arms in front of her chest and stomping her foot, she answered firmly, "Keep the key then, be here at 7:30...sharp."

Picking up the key, he took a few steps closer to her before nodding his thanks. His body was still trying to calm itself. Both of them were breathing heavily. Their chests puffing. "And Claire?" Owen wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into a searing kiss. Her arms fell to her sides as she went limp for an instant. Only an instant. She abruptly pulled away and slapped him - hard - across his left cheek. His eyes went wide but not with alarm.

"Did that turn you on?" she asked playfully. He quirked an eyebrow as if to say, "What do you think?" Without skipping a beat, her hands fisted into his shirt, and she pulled him back down to her for a deeper, wetter kiss. It felt as if their mouths were on fire. They both whimpered as the tension melted away. When Owen pulled back for air, he was panting. He licked his lips and teased, "That is definitely not tequila."

"You're drunk," she laughed with a small snort.

"Not as much as you." Now, they were both laughing. There was a warmth in the air that went beyond lust. He knew this was his opportunity - the first of many, he hoped - to prove himself a gentleman.

"Go," she directed, shoving him away and blushing adorably. Trying not to consider the benefits of being her sex slave, he respected her as a lady.

"See you Friday, Claire."

* * *

Sitting across from each other at the small table, Owen couldn't stop smiling. His utter glee wasn't only related to her hello kiss at the penthouse or her playing footsie with him under the table. It was everything taken together. It was an absence of things, as well. No itinerary. No alcohol - who needed it? As far as he was concerned, he could just get drunk on Claire. Not wanting to embarrass her, he didn't ask whether she was sick the morning after their last encounter. Not wanting to embarrass himself, he refrained from describing his own difficulties. He did, however, comment on how they'd successfully met each other in the middle with regard to wardrobe.

"Your sun dress goes well with my jeans and button-down," he teased.

Rolling her eyes, she replied, "Yes, I'm glad we both left our board shorts at home." A foot that had shed its pump started to ascend the interior of his pant leg. He shivered and let out a short grunt.

"In my defense," he retorted, "board shorts are completely appropriate for a walk on the beach." Waggling his eyebrows and grinning mischievously at her, she couldn't help but laugh.

"I think you mean, a _fuck_ on the beach."

"Board shorts _do_ make that easier, but neither of those activities was on your itinerary." This was friendly squabbling. They needed to put everything on the table, especially after the alcohol-induced revelations at her penthouse.

She sighed through a small smile, "I asked you out. I had every right to engineer an ideal date." Crinkling her nose, she added, "Or at least try to." Owen felt deeply bashful. He'd more than misread the situation on their first date. Claire's approach backfired, in part, because he wasn't open to the idea of a relationship with her at the time. Now, as he watched her intently, he wondered if his eyes were open for the first time. If there were possibilities beyond what he'd previously determined to need. If he wanted more.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and diverted their conversation, "You're really beautiful."

"You're not so bad yourself."

"Is that why you wanted to date me? My looks?"

"No, the total package."

"So, just a specific part of my anatomy then?" When she tapped his hand playfully and mouthed "stop it," he took hold of her hand. He stated in a solemn tone, "Women like you don't date me."

"Yeah," she replied sarcastically, "we just toss you aside after having our way with you." Clutching his heart mockingly, Owen faked a sob. She squeezed his hand and shifted to being serious. "Why would you believe that? Don't you know how good you look on paper, too?"

"You 'stop it' now."

"No." Her tone was firm. "This is self-deprecating bullshit. You know what a catch you are."

"Oh yeah." It was his turn to be sarcastic. "Cynical, workaholic alpha male seeks willing accomplice to hide away from the world in his limited off-time. It's a very enticing offer." He looked away from her - even tried to pull his hand away - but she tightened her grip.

"A woman like me gets that." She cleared her throat. "And wants that. You are very enticing." When he looked back at her, he recognized the longing. The desire to be understood. He hadn't given her a chance to show him that on their first date. Nor had he revealed that same desire. He'd previously denied it to everyone, including himself. This epiphany made him feel unsure and rendered him speechless. Although this was a new experience for him, it wasn't uncomfortable. Being completely honest, it was a relief.

For her part, Claire was nervous. She didn't want to scare him off...again. As it was her nature to work out problems and find solutions, she endeavored to solve this Owen Grady puzzle. There were more layers to him than he was willing to share easily. It was the same for her. Perhaps they could tear down their walls just enough to allow each other access yet still maintain distance from the rest of the world. She broke what she perceived as an awkward silence to ask, "What does that mean anyway? 'Women like you don't date me'? Do you actually date _any_ kind of woman?" She saw right through him.

"No. I usually find a brainless bimbo for an easy lay." They were both shocked by his bluntness. Claire almost choked on the water she was sipping. "I'm also not usually this raw and unfiltered, but I figure it's only fair. Knowing what I know about you and-" He stopped short at her silent request. She was shaking her head furiously and looking remorseful. Her gaze suddenly drifted to scan the room. Fuck, he thought, I'm screwing this up again. "I'm sorry." She turned toward him with a furrowed brow.

"Don't apologize, Owen. I want you to be honest. I told you already that I don't want...what I had with him...with you." After quickly redirecting the discussion to their jobs, Claire spent the rest of dinner relaxed and happy.

Her nervousness returned and was apparent to Owen in her elevator. Perhaps he had been too enthusiastic to use "his" key to access the penthouse. As they ascended, other passengers exited, and they weren't alone again until only a few floors remained. His bashfulness also returned at this point, as he was surprisingly unsure of how he wanted their night to end. Claire's taking his left hand to entwine their fingers only served to heighten his confusion. It felt nice despite being reserved. His compulsion should've been to rip her clothes off and shove her against a wall. So, why wasn't he? What was stopping him?

As they entered her foyer, Claire put her purse on a table and faced him, never letting go of his left hand.

"I had a really great time tonight," she said shyly. Maybe she was just as uncertain as him.

"Me, too." He leaned down to kiss her, and she closed her eyes. Like holding hands, it was soft and sweet. His overriding compulsion was not wanting ruin this second chance with her. The concept was decidedly different for him, truly uncharted territory. When he delicately parted her lips with his tongue, she moaned and pulled him closer. Her body pressed against his felt so right - perfect, even - but the key in his pocket felt like it was vibrating and giving him tinnitus. Without breaking their kiss, he brought her left hand to his waist then removed the key and slipped it gently into her palm. As if he'd zapped her with electricity, Claire jolted away from him. He gasped at the loss of contact. She looked up at him like a wounded animal or one caught in headlights. Her lower lip quivered, but she flinched when he reached out to touch her cheek.

"You don't want it?" she stammered.

"Yes, Claire, I do, but..." He paused to take a deep breath. "I want to earn it." Pointing to the key sitting on her trembling fingers, he continued, "That's not mine yet." Suddenly, she moved forward, clasped her arms around his waist, and buried her face in his chest. He reflexively returned her embrace without any hesitation. They stood in a soothing silence for what seemed like an eternity. Stroking her hair, he eventually whispered, "I want more than just a key to your place." When she pulled back to nod, there were tears forming in her eyes.

His deeper meaning understood without additional words, Claire simply asked, "When can I see you again?"

"Tomorrow." His tone was eager, and they both chuckled. Pulling up on tiptoes, she kissed him one last time before walking him back to the elevator. "Tomorrow," repeated Owen as the doors shut and her wide, megawatt smile vanished from his view.

* * *

 _ **What did you think of this ending? Any ideas for what I should write next? I'm considering a sequel to continue this story into the events of**_ **Jurassic World. _Or_ _maybe_ **_**I should finish**_ **Echtra Jurassic** _**first? Feel free to share your thoughts in a review or PM :)**_

 _ **Thanks to all my readers for giving this story a chance and extra special mention to akaJB for being an excellent beta and cheerleader!**_


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